Amy Lynn the Story

It was wan awful weekend. I was consumed with guilt.

I felt guilty every time I saw my husband for cheating on him, but the funny thing was, it didn't feel like it was cheating really. I knew it was wrong to hide it from him, wrong to have done it really. I had, however, convinced myself it wasn't cheating, because he couldn't give me the things she gave me. Because she was a woman, I told myself, it was different, okay.

Then there was the all consuming guilt of having both sex with another woman, and sex with one of my employees. This guilt I couldn't talk myself out of. When I took my shower and washed myself I felt disgusted that I was with another woman, nothing like that moment where I couldn't say no. And then I'd think about it and start to desire all those feelings again, the guilt intertwined with the ecstasy, driving me mad.

I shied away from my husband's advances all weekend. He was becoming more and more amorous as we continued exploring his sexuality, but this weekend, I couldn't handle it. I was consumed with thoughts of Friday, and of Monday morning.

I made it through the weekend, but Monday was going to prove daunting. I woke up early to shower and tried to convince myself I was sick. I had never called in sick to work a day in my life, so while it might have been a plausible excuse, Sandy would have known.

"But maybe she'll call in sick," I thought to myself, "or quit."

Here I was tearing myself apart over something that was so awful, so wrong. What had I gotten myself into? My life was insane. I was feeling overwhelmed. My job was piling on top of me, and now I went and really complicated my work life.

And then there was my husband. I was starting to realize that this crazy joke I played was going on way too long. Was it a joke? It didn't seem like one for him, he was embracing his role. The house was never cleaner, the food never tasted better.

It was the sex. For a while the power is intoxicating. I felt so strong watching him on his hands and knees pleasing me, or spreading his cheeks out and begging me to put myself inside of him. It's no wonder I went and had sex with a woman, I thought, I married one.

It was about then that my husband woke up and asked me what was wrong.

"I think I'm too sick to go to work," I faked sniffling and crawled back into bed.

"Oh honey," he grabbed my back and started to rub my muscles, "I think you're just stressed out and we didn't do anything about it this weekend."

I wanted to brush him away. I felt dirty letting him touch me, like I was using him. He slowly worked my muscles until he was at the small of my back then flipped me over. Then he gently massaged the inside of my thighs as he pressed my legs open, revealing my inner lips.

"Honey, I don't feel up to it," I reached a hand down to cover myself from his gaze, but he slipped it away and soon his face was buried deep within me.

It didn't feel like much at first, his tongue searching around looking for a place to make me shudder, then I closed my eyes and I saw her. Sandy was between my legs and all of a sudden my body was consumed with passion. I felt my juices dripping between my legs and his tongue.

I reached down and pulled his head deeper and deeper towards me. His tongue pressed passionately between my legs, his hands exploring my breasts.

I started to scream, pulling on his head, hoping to push it deeper inside of me, want it to fill me, consume me. I lurched up in the air, repeatedly pushing my sex hard against his face, almost beating him with it, and then, suddenly, I collapsed.

"So are you good for work now?" he slid up behind me, wiping his face on his t-shirt before discarding it.

"Yes," I laid there quietly for a moment, "I guess I'll need another shower though."

I drove to work disgusted with myself. I felt sick, my stomach was tied in knots. What was Sandy going to do? How could I fantasize about a gay relationship while my husband was trying to please me?

I pulled over into a parking lot and started crying.

It took me a while to collect myself and convince myself that I couldn't look back, only forward. I drove off to work.

"I was still early," I thought, as I walked off the elevator and strolled past the empty cubicles towards my office. "Maybe she won't be here yet."

I was wrong.

I opened the door to my office and saw her sitting at my desk and at that moment, I fell in love. My legs immediately buckled, I could barely hold myself standing up. The sight of her sent my stomach to my throat. I realized, whatever had happened had done something to me.

The look in eyes said all the same things back to me. She was radiant. I walked over to my side of the desk, not even noticing that my expense reports were already filed away, and touched her on the shoulder, not really knowing how to proceed.

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't be in your chair," she quickly stood up, pushing the chair out from underneath her.

"It's okay," I laughed, "are we alone?"

She walked to my office door and closed it quietly.

"We are now," she walked up to me and gently placed her arms around my side, cupping my ass in her hands.

I pulled her closer, one hand on the small of her back, the other on her shoulder, and then we kissed.

My body melted. I felt the pressure of the weekend drift away. Her tongue gently explored my mouth, mine hers, our hands holding each other as close as possible.

"I'm sorry," she said, pulling herself back and straightening up her skirt and blouse. "I was so nervous you were going to hate me. I couldn't sleep all weekend."

"Me too," I was so relieved.

Then things felt awkward.

"I did your expense reports and filed hem with accounting," she pointed out the folders on my desk, "no one was there yet, but I dropped them in the drop box."

She went on about how she could help me with them and other things, but all I could do is look at her. She was wonderful. She looked wonderful, her eyes and hair. Her lips.

"When can we see each other again?" I got closer to her. "I don't know why, but I can't stop thinking about you."

She placed her finger on my lips as if to tell me to be quiet then leaned up and whispered in my ear.

"You know where I live, I'll be waiting."

I don't know if it was the words or her warm breath in my ear, but my body quivered with intense excitement. I couldn't peel my eyes off of her slender body as she walked out of my office towards her desk. I wanted her, but when was I going to find the time.

I sat at my desk and realized that she had made the time. My expense reports were finished, a bunch of purchase orders to sign were collated in the center of my desk, and a bagel, still warm, with cream cheese sat in a bag to my side.

If I wasn't in love when I opened the door and saw her that morning, I was certainly in love by then. I reached my hand between my legs and pressed in hard, shudder after shudder driving me mad. I felt insatiable and always, at the back of my mind, guilty about being gay.

I spent that day trying to work. Luckily most of it was laid out in front of me in neat little packages. Finally, as the day wound down, I went to find Sandy and thank her for all of her hard work, but I couldn't find her. Disheartened, I headed home.

I had dinner with my husband over the usual small talk. Pangs of guilt passed through me as I lied about the expense reports again, and never mentioned Sandy or her incredible organizing.

"I think I'm going to go for a walk," I got up from the dinner table, "I need some time to myself."

I bundled up and said I'd be back in a little while, maybe a couple of hours if I found somewhere to get a drink.

It was then that I could tell he thought I was cheating on him. I felt terrible. I gave him a big hug and slid out the door, purposely walking the wrong way to Sandy's house. It was official, I now felt like I was a cheating spouse, be it with a woman or not.

When I got to Sandy's the apartment was dark. I stood on the street outside and thought about what to do. Was she there? Why couldn't I find her at work? All the nervousness from the weekend felt like it was creeping back over me. I worked up the courage to ring the bell.

"Hello?" her voice crackled through a tinny speaker.

"It's me, Amy," I answered.

The door buzzed and I opened it and went inside. Sandy was standing in her door waiting for me wearing a workout outfit. She looked so young out of her work clothes, and so vulnerable. What was I doing I kept asking myself, but never stopping.

"You look so breathtaking," I walked close and our lips gently met as the door closed behind us. We couldn't wait to get our hands on each other, her hands frantically tugging my shirt loose enough that she could reach and up massage my breasts, me working mine up and down her back.

We stumbled, undressing, our lips never parting, to her bed. My shirt and bra dropping to the floor as I fell towards her.

Our lips met and then explored each others bodies. She was so wonderful and soft, her skin tasted like honey. I lowered myself to one of her breasts and pulled it into my mouth, her nipples hard against my tongue.

She rolled me over started rubbing my entire body. Her hands exploring from between my thighs to my hair and back again finally her mouth settling around one of my full breasts.

I reach my hand down and caressed my fingers through her hair, her mouth gently pulling my nipple around her tongue. I felt a surge of sex run through me, looking down at her.

I never let my husband spend so much time latched against my breasts, I always felt it was weird. Like he had an infatuation. Sandy, though, oh looking down at her while I caressed her, I never wanted her to stop.

She switched to the other side, my body shuddering as if it were left in the cold until her mouth pulled my nipple inside, then slowly, she stopped and looked up at me.

"Don't stop," I moaned.

She didn't listen and slowly rotated her head between my legs, her hips above my face.

Her lips were glistening pink. I hadn't noticed that she was completely bare the other night, or maybe it was new. I couldn't take my eyes off of her, her smell filling my nose with intoxicating vapor. She lowered herself onto me and my tongue quickly explored her.

I felt her fingers spread me, and then the wet sliding of her tongue against my very soul. She made me burst in pleasure nearly at her first touch, and my body writhed and flailed beneath her, her sex pressed tight against my tongue, writhing with me. I exploded in a series of loud screams muffled by her hips and legs squeezing tight against me. I could feel her own moans vibrate through my lips, my clit and up into my spine.

We shook and moved for what felt like hours. Our bodies press so tight against each other we would be both be bruised for a week. I didn't care, I wanted to crawl inside of her, to be as close as I could to her. I wanted to consume her.

We fell back in her bed, her head resting upon my breast while I caressed her. We talked, about a lot of things, though steering clear of my personal life except for some vague statements. We were falling deep in love.

"I'm so sorry," I lowered my head to kiss her, "but I said I'd be home in a couple of hours and it's been three."

We cleaned up her place, and I tried to freshen up so I wouldn't smell so much like sex, but Sandy's smell was pungent. I did my best.

We had another long kiss good bye and I headed home.